


Five Dates at Druper's

by orange_eclipse



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_eclipse/pseuds/orange_eclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein five different groups descend on Druper's at five different times for five different reasons. /Kinkmeme fill. Oneshot.\</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Dates at Druper's

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out distinctly more platonic than intended, but OP seemed to enjoy it, and I'm really proud of it.
> 
> Original prompt - http://kamenrider.dreamwidth.org/4239.html?thread=174991

"So Kazuraba decided he was going to take a swing at me, and I was like, 'what, like you can take me,' and he was all--"   
  
"Hold that thought, Hase-chan."   
  
Hase frowned as Jounouchi sat back in his chair. "What?" he said as Jounouchi stroked his chin. "Hey, this is a great story! Who said you get to interrupt me?"   
  
"I did," Jonouchi said, "because I'm thinking, which is way more important than you talking." He stared at Hase intently, and then smirked, lowering his hands. "Aha. I see."   
  
"What?" Hase said. "See what?!"   
  
"Oh nothing," said Jonouchi. He shook his head and picked up his smoothie, grinning at Hase over top of it. "You're just a complete liar who can't be trusted."   
  
Hase's shoulders hitched upwards. "What did you just say, you little punk?! Don't you talk to me like you're some big shot or like Invitto is that great a team, you nerd-faced--"   
  
"Invitto was there, you idiot," Jonouchi said mildly, "and you're the one who threw the first punch. And then you proceeded to get thoroughly whipped by Gaim's five-foot-nothing scrapper. A shining moment for Raid Wild's poweful leader."   
  
"He's five-four!" Hase snapped. "And have you seen what he can do once he gets running?! I'm serious, gravity just doesn't exist around Kazuraba!"   
  
Jonouchi would have made another reply except that now the restaurant owner was staring them down. Jonouchi flashed him a smile and gave Hase's shoulder a shove, forcing him back down in his seat. "Calm down, Hase-chan. We don't want to get kicked out. This might technically be neutral territory, but you know how protective Gaim is of their fans. And I doubt you want to get mixed up with Kazuraba again."   
  
"You just watch me," Hase muttered sullenly into his parfait.   
  


* * *

  
"A smoothie place," Kaito said skeptically.  
  
Peco and Zack glanced at each other. "Yeah," Peco said, his usual chirp dimming a little with nerves. "Fruit is healthy, right? Plus, uh, bananas! Bananas have...what is it, potassium? That helps build muscle strength? Right?"  
  
"What Peco is saying," Zack said, nudging Peco in the ribs, "is that you haven't actually sat down and enjoyed anything in like three weeks. And as members of Team Baron, we're concerned."  
  
Kaito snorted. "You have no reason to be concerned over me," he said. "I can take care of myself. Probably better than you two can."  
  
"Well, that's why we take care of each other instead," Peco objected, earning himself another elbow to the ribs from Zack. "What?!" He rubbed at his chest, giving Zack a sullen glare. "You're the one who said we had to be the ones to make sure Kaito doesn't kill himself!"  
  
Kaito arched one eyebrow. Zack clapped a hand over his face and sighed, aiming a punch at Peco's arm. "Can you stop talking for like three second and let me do the explaining?"  
  
"There's no need to explain," Kaito said. "I know what you two are up to."  
  
Both of them froze. Kaito looked them over with narrowed eyes, and they glanced at each other, praying that if he was going to end them, at least he would do it quickly.  
  
"For whatever reason, you two think my strength is flagging," Kaito said. He stepped between them and towards the restaurant door, leaving the two of them glancing at each other in confusion. "I can't allow any cracks in my team's conviction. If this is what it takes to remind you that I  _am_  the strongest in Team Baron and still in perfect condition to stay that way, then let's get this over with."  
  
Zack and Peco gave each other another long look. But Kaito was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and neither of them were in any particular position to be looking a gift horse in the mouth.  
  


* * *

  
"What about this one?"  
  
"No, that's Red Hot's biggest stage after their home stage. We can't hit that deep into their territory.  
  
"I could take them."  
  
"Kouta-san, you're not even technically a member of Team Gaim any more."  
  
"Kouta is always  _technically_  a member of Team Gaim," Mai interrupted. "But he has a point, Kouta. If Gaim has no choice but to have a turf war, I want it to be mostly on our own ground. We don't need to turn into Baron here."  
  
Kouta whined and sprawled his arms out across the counter. "But turf wars are how our team gets higher ranks! Does Yuuya know you're discouraging us from being popular and amazing?"  
  
"Yuuya-san agrees with her," Mitsuzane said. He spread his hands flat over the city map, ignoring the parfait in favor of studying the interlacing streets, circles of highlighter marking off every stage by team colors. "Maybe the fighting makes things exciting for spectators, but we have a reputation of being the more peaceful of the teams. We don't strike first. We defend our territory, and we make sure we beat them so hard they never want to come back."  
  
Kouta grimaced. "But we have so few stages! If we want to dance anywhere but this sector, we  _have_  to either cut deals or battle."  
  
"Five stages is more than enough," Mai said. "We have our home stage and four compass points. Too many points make our position harder to defend. Which you should know," she said, poking Kouta in the nose, "considering the last time we jumped to eight stages, you and Yuuya were the ones who nearly got taken down by the Invitto/Raid Wild tag-team."  
  
"At least I kept the stage," Kouta muttered.  
  
"You also ended up with a black eye and your sister grounding you for a month," Mitsuzane said mildly. Kouta shot him a nasty look, and he raised his eyebrows over the top of his parfait, almost challenging.  
  
Mai heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Look, bottom line is, we're not going to become the aggressors here. Team Gaim isn't here to fight, right? We're here to dance. We'll respond if we're threatened, but I don't want us to lose what makes us...well, us."  
  
Kouta folded his arms and rested his chin on them, giving his parfait a sullen stare. But when Mitsuzane and Mai bent their heads over the map again, he was back up and listening in the same as always, because Mai was right. This  _was_  still his team, and just because he had to leave didn't mean he had to abandon them completely.  
  


* * *

  
"So this is what he's been up to."  
  
Ryouma tapped the rim of his smoothie glass and smirked. "Funny, that. You think you have someone figured out, and then one day you discover you didn't know anything about them at all."  
  
Takatora narrowed his eyes. From their place behind the partition, he could see through the cracks as Mitsuzane and his companions studied their map. They couldn't hear the conversation from this far away, but considering the way they were dressed and the circles he could see in familiar locations all over the map, there was no doubt what this must be.  
  
Ryouma leaned back in his seat and folded his legs. "So the question is, what are you going to do now? He's disobeying you, isn't he? Do you plan to confront him about it now or spring it on him later? I've always been curious as to your disciplinary tactics."  
  
Takatora shot him a dark look, but Ryouma's expression remained completely innocent. This was not the time or the place for either of these conversations, but there was an air of expectation in Ryouma's entire demeanor.  
  
"Was this why you invited me here today?" he asked, poking idly at his parfait. It was a little too sweet for his taste, really. "To see how I would react to an invasion of my younger brother's privacy?"  
  
Ryouma rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. I'm  _helping_  you. You had no idea what he was up to and I know you didn't. I'm just interested to see what you'll do now that you know he isn't as obedient and perfect as you like to think."  
  
Takatora looked through the gaps in the screen again. Mitsuzane's companions seemed to be arguing once more. Mitsuzane himself had backed away from the map with his hands up, but, Takatora noticed with a little shock, he was smiling.  
  
When was the last time he had seen a smile like that out of his little brother?  
  
"I'll discuss it with him later," Takatora said calmly. He poked at the half-eaten parfait again, then looked up at Ryouma, who was still staring intently at him. "You are not invited."  
  
Ryouma pouted at him. "Oh, you're no fun at all."  
  


* * *

  
_"Non!"_  
  
Bandou sighed as Oren slammed yet another barely-tasted parfait cup down on the table. "What's wrong with it this time?" he asked. "Is it too sweet again? Did I forget a layer? Is it not complicated enough for your highly-trained palette to enjoy?"  
  
Oren smiled. "None of the above,  _mon cher,"_  he said, his voice lighter now. "Technically speaking, you've executed a wonderful parfait. Perhaps not up to the standards of a dessert chef with years of training, but certainly befitting the skill level of a store owner who's been running this store for years."  
  
"Thanks for the compliment," Bandou deadpanned, and Oren smiled prettily at him. "So if you don't have a problem with the parfait, then what is your problem?"  
  
"Ah," Oren sighed, "but it  _is_  a problem with the parfait. You see, you've forgotten the most important ingredient!"  
  
Bandou quirked one eyebrow. "You just said the ingredients were perfect. I don't speak fancy French chef, you know."  
  
Oren shook his head, 'tsk'ing gently. "Fine. I suppose I'll make an exception for you, because I have grown rather fond of you." He lifted the cup again, holding it gently between his fingers. "You've forgotten to include your passion and love!"  
  
Bandou gave him a blank look. "Excuse me?"  
  
Oren smiled and set the cup down again. "You're frustrated with me. I've come into your restaurant and invited myself into a place as your drill sergeant, and you resent that. That anger is what you put into this dessert. It might be a technical masterpiece, but without passion for the piece itself, it will still taste bland or bitter every time!"  
  
Bandou pressed one hand against his face, then lowered it. "You're crazy. I really should have kicked you out hours ago."  
  
Oren folded his hands on the counter. "I'll leave if you so desire, but first, think about it for a moment. Those children of yours, the dancers. Why do you think they keep coming back to you?"  
  
"Because I don't treat them like lesser human beings just because they're kids," Bandou said flatly.  
  
Oren rolled his eyes and waved one hand. "Granted, there is that, yes," he said. "But don't you think that attitude also appears in what you serve them? You care about them! You want them to enjoy your food so that they'll keep returning to visit you. Your passion for them infuses what you serve with love! I assure you, they can sense it in every bite they take."  
  
He leaned across the counter and smiled again. "Your feelings make or break every work of art you serve. So what are you going to do about this angry parfait of yours?"  
  
Bandou rested his elbows on the counter as well. He leaned in so close that their foreheads almost touched, not once breaking eye contact with Oren.  
  
"I'm going to make you eat it anyway and let it tell you what I think of you."  
  
Oren huffed and pulled back. "Fine! You wound me deeply, you know,  _mon cher._  But I am very persistent! Don't think you've won this war!"  
  
Bandou rolled his eyes as Oren picked up his parfait and swept out the door. His shop was supposed to be neutral ground. No wars. No fighting. Just a little food and a little peace from whatever might be threatening outside of his doors.  
  
Maybe that was what he worked into his desserts, he mused, cleaning off the last of his mixing tools. Peace.  
  
He liked that thought.

 


End file.
